


Forever begins today

by UnZafiroEspumoso



Series: Say yes to forever [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff and Angst, Greg has the patience of a saint, Humour, John is a Good Friend, M/M, Marriage, Mycroft is Sweet, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, POV Greg, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnZafiroEspumoso/pseuds/UnZafiroEspumoso
Summary: After finally getting engaged to Mycroft, it's going well for Greg. However, his patience is soon being tested once again as the wedding day looms ever closer. Planning a wedding is far from plain sailing, and Greg once again finds himself wondering if he will ever make it down the aisle.Sequel to Easier said than done, can be read without having read that one, but it would be make a bit more sense if that one was read first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So a few people have asked me to write Mycroft and Greg’s wedding, which I am more than happy to do! But this being me, who said it was going to be plain sailing to the altar…
> 
> For those who don't know, this is a sequel to my previous fic “Easier said than done”. Although, it can be read without reading that one first. I'm expecting it to be roughly the same length as the previous fic in this series - probably slightly longer. Hopefully, updates will be weekly and seen as I am off Uni for Easter, I'm hoping to update twice a week. 
> 
> All that is left to say is enjoy!!

Sunlight filtered gently into the room, bathing everything in a rich golden glow. Greg roused slightly at the change in lighting, only half aware of where he was in his sleep addled state. He opened his eyes only to squeeze them shut again, the brightness of the room too sudden a change for his brain to comprehend. He waited a few minutes before tentatively re-opening his eyes. This time, he was able to make out the shapes that made up the room he shared with his fiancé. 

Greg stretched and smiled lazily, content to continue lounging in bed for a little while longer. He shifted slightly, trying to move as little as possible so as not to wake his partner who was currently wrapped around him like an octopus. He had found that since moving in with Mycroft permanently several months ago, this was without a doubt the best part of the day. If he could, he would make it so that he could spend all day just laid in this ridiculously large bed, cocooned up in silk sheets with his partner wrapped around him. It really was surprising how cuddly the elder Holmes could be, and Greg felt truly honoured that he was one of the few people who go to experience this softer side of the “ice” man. 

Just as Greg was thinking of said partner, he felt insistent kisses being pressed into his neck and he let out a chuckle as a pair of teeth started to nibble at his ear. He let the gentle teasing continue for a few moments more, before turning his head to allow him to properly capture Mycroft’s mouth in a sultry kiss.

“Good morning” Greg said, against his partners lips.

Mycroft let out a little huff in acknowledgment, reluctant to answer properly as that would mean having to release his hold of Greg. With practised ease, Greg was able to wrap one of his arms around his partner’s waist so that he could manoeuvre the taller man on top of him.

“I said, good morning” Greg rasped, as he traced Mycroft’s jaw with gentle kisses.

“Mmhmm” Mycroft hummed, still far too preoccupied with Greg’s ministrations to put together a coherent answer. Greg rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop placing kisses on every bit of Mycroft he could reach. They stayed like that for several minutes, each caught up in the sensations of the other. That was until a sudden ringing noise punctuated the room. Greg cursed in annoyance, blindly flinging out an arm to grab the offending item. Mycroft laughed when instead of answering the phone, Greg accidently knocked it onto the floor which inspired even more colourful language from the inspector. Mycroft reluctantly rolled off Greg to allow him to reach for the phone, but he kept tracing patterns onto his lovers chest.

“Lestrade” Greg answered, a little sharply as he shot an apologetic look at Mycroft. “Right... Okay…Can’t it wait? Fine, I’m on my way” Greg sighed, as he hung up.

“Duty calls, I take it” Mycroft said, as he watched Greg thud the phone back down on the table.

“I’m sorry” Greg apologized, as he leaned over to give his lover one last kiss before he moved to get ready.

“Not a problem” Mycroft replied, his eye lingering on Greg as he got dressed. “Remember that we have an appointment with the caterers this evening.”

“I know, I’ll be home at four so that I have time to get changed. Shall I meet you there?”

“I’ll send a car.”

“You do know that I can drive.”

“Yes, but it will be easier if I send a car for you”

Greg sighed, he always hated being chauffeured around, much preferring to drive himself about. “Alright, I’ll see you there then” Greg conceded, reluctant to get into an argument this early in the morning. He leaned over to give his partner, who was still laid in a bed, a quick kiss goodbye before reluctantly setting off for the Yard.

***

“You seem to be in a good mood, Sir” Sgt Donovan remarked as Greg all but sauntered into the office, whistling at the top of his lungs.

Greg smiled in return, taking a quick drink of the coffee his colleague had just handed him.

“I’d have been in an even better one if someone hadn’t insisted that I come in immediately” he replied, taking another sip of his drink and wincing at how hot it was.

“Have we got a new coffee machine, this is actually hot for a change” Greg remarked, as he led the way into his office.

“I wish, some guy who looked like he was straight out of a Bond film told me to give it to you when you arrived” Sally replied, dropping into the seat opposite Greg’s side of the desk.

“Really?” Greg asked, whilst shrugging off his coat. He knew Mycroft was fast but he didn’t think he was that fast. He wasn’t even dressed when he had left the house, no it must have been one of his minions who had dropped the coffee off, Greg concluded as he settled into his chair.

“Mmhmm, creepy I tell you. I almost sent it to Anderson to check if it contained anything untoward” Sally replied, handing Greg a couple of files.

Greg shuddered at the thought of Anderson poking at his coffee, who knew where that man’s hands had been. “Good thing you didn’t or I’d definitely be on my way to hospital in a stretcher” Greg remarked, as he started to read through the files.

“Are you absolutely sure you aren’t marrying James Bond, Sir?”

Greg laughed at that, the image of Mycroft being an all action international spy tickling him.

“Mycroft’s not really James Bond material” Greg managed, between laughs, “I think he’d pull a muscle just thinking about having to do leg work!”

“Oh my God, he’s not M is he?” Sally exclaimed, feigning shock.

“No!” Greg answered, his tone one of mocked anger which left the pair of them laughing.

“I wasn’t aware this was a children’s nursery” an annoyed voice came from the door way.

"Good morning to you too, Sherlock” Greg chirped, enjoying himself far too much to be bothered by the younger Holmes’ tone. Sherlock scowled as he moved into the room, closely followed by John.

“I’ll leave you to deal with him” Sally said, as she brushed past Sherlock on her way out causing him to bristle. As soon the office door had closed, Sherlock all but jumped on Greg.

“Have you read the file” Sherlock demanded, his tone brokering no argument.

“Yes, let me guess you already know who did it” Greg replied, leaning back in his chair to look Sherlock in the eye.

“I have a number of ideas, nothing concrete” Sherlock mused, rather evasively.

“Right, and are you thinking of letting me in on any of those ideas?” Greg asked, already having a good idea of where this conversation was going to go. The case they were both referring to was the one that had forced him to come in early this morning. A young au-pair had been found dead in her host family’s home from what appeared to be a number of physical injuries. None of the other occupants of the house were home, but there were signs of a struggle and suspicion had fallen on the father of the household. Hence the reason why Greg had to be called in so early. How Sherlock had managed to get to the crime scene before Greg had even made it into the office was something the inspector would rather not think about.

“Perhaps, but I’ll need access to your forensics first” Sherlock said, in response to Greg’s question.

“Alright, you can use the lab for an hour but not a minute more” Greg conceded. There really was no point in denying Sherlock access to the lab, especially when he would only end up breaking in anyway if he had been denied permission. Besides, having Sherlock’s help would probably solve the case quicker anyway.

“Thank you” Sherlock replied with a Cheshire cat smile before turning to leave, his coat whipping around with the speed at which he moved. John stood bemused as he watched Sherlock stride out of the office, apparently forgetting all about his companion’s existence. If he had moved any faster he would have broken the sound barrier, Greg thought to himself dryly. John shook his head and sat down opposite the inspector.

"What’s up with him?” Greg asked, confused.

“Oh nothing important, he’s just sulking because I’m making him re-write his best man’s speech” John replied, his voice laced with exasperation. Greg raised an eyebrow, to which John shook his head. “Trust me Greg, you don’t want to know. Anyway, how are the preparations going?”

“Great, well at least I think they are” Greg answered, thinking about how nicely everything was progressing along. There was just under two months left to go before the big day and Greg was beginning to feel the nerves.

“You only think?”

“Well, I’ve had a load of cases recently and haven’t really been as involved in the organisation as much I suppose I should have been”. Greg admitted, genuinely regretful.

John nodded his head. “Is Mycroft alright with it though? Taking control of the decisions I mean.”

“Sure, in fact sometimes I think he prefers it” Greg replied, a tiny bit downcast at the admission.

“I have to admit, I would never have pictured Mycroft as a wedding planner” John joked, trying to lighten up the mood again.

“Me neither, but he is very good at being organised. He even had me looking at different types of confetti yesterday”

“I didn’t even know there were different types!”

“Yeah, me neither, but I spent a good hour looking at all the possible shapes and colours we could have!”

“Wow, do people even notice these things though?”

“They had better do!” Greg responded, laughing at how ridiculous his evening last night had been. A full hour Greg had spent with Mycroft as he showed him the various confetti shapes and colours available. Mycroft even went so far as to discuss the thickness of the confetti!

“Sir, the freaks down in forensics” Sally said from the doorway, another load of files clutched in her hand.

“I know, I gave him permission. Are those for me?” Greg asked, pointing at the files.

“Yeah” she said, as she passed them over whilst giving John a wary look. John, to his credit, simply smiled warmly in return, making no move to leave.

“Sir, I have some information...” Sally started, clearly hoping the doctor would take the hint.

“Go on then” Greg said, as he leafed through yet more documents, silently giving John permission to stay much to the Sgt’s chagrin.

“We’ve located the mother, she was out taking the children to school”.

“Wasn’t that the au pair’s job?” John asked, earning him a look from Sgt Donovan.

“Normally yes, but Monday is her day off”.

“How many kids?” Greg inquired.

“Two, but only one of them is at school. The other is still in a pram”.

“Right, and what about the whereabouts of the husband?”

"Apparently he’s on his way to a business meeting in Brussels. We’ve checked with the local airports and he hasn’t passed through them yet. If he tries to now, we will be informed”.

“Good work, Sgt” Greg praised.

“I’ll let you know when we have anything else” Sally said, before leaving.

“Doesn’t sound too good for the husband” John mused, as he got up to go and find Sherlock.

“No it doesn’t. But I’ve found with cases like these anything can happen” Greg admitted, as he placed the files down and lent back in his chair.

“Lestrade, you’ll be happy to know I’ve finished in forensics and…” Sherlock stopped dead as he entered the room.

"John?” Sherlock asked, perplexed.

“Yes” John replied bemusedly.

“How did you get up here so quick?”

“Well, I haven’t actually moved anywhere.”

“So, who have I been talking to in the lab?”

“The mice?” John joked, earning him a look from the younger Holmes.

"Did you find anything, Sherlock?” Greg asked, hoping the younger Holmes had something to give him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet. I’ll need to run some theories first. Come along John, we need to do some investigating of our own” Sherlock replied noncommittedly, before striding out of the office again. This time John followed, but not before saying goodbye to the inspector and promising to tell him if they found anything.

“Sir, we might have found the husband” Sally called from the doorway.

“Right, let’s go then” Greg replied, ready to hopefully make some progress in this case.

***

To say the day had ended up being a car crash was an understatement. What had at first seemed to be a promising start to the day, had actually turned into a wild goose chase around London trying to locate the elusive husband who may or may not have been heading to Brussels. At the end of the day, they were no closer to finding the murderer than they were at the beginning. To make it worse, they had no more leads to follow and Sherlock unsurprisingly hadn’t gotten back in touch. Greg sighed as pulled on his coat. He was about to leave to go and get ready to meet Mycroft so that they could sort out the food for their wedding. In truth, he couldn’t wait to meet his fiancé. After the day he had had, he found himself longing for his partners’ embrace.

Greg was just about to leave his office when Sally came bustling in, almost knocking him over.

“Sir, it’s the husband. We’ve found him.” She rushed out.

“Where?”

“At an address not far from here.”

“Right, is he being brought in?”

“As we speak.”

"Good, I want an interview room to be set up now. I’ll be interviewing him as soon he gets here” Greg ordered, as he took his coat back off.

“Understood, sir” Sally said before leaving to go do as Greg asked. Greg sighed as he glanced at the clock. The odds of him actually making this meeting with the caterers had started to look pretty slim. He pulled out his phone and dialled Mycroft’s number. Greg cursed when it went onto voicemail.

“Hey, love it’s me. Look, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make the appointment with the caterers tonight. Something has come up at work and I’m going to be late, I’ll tell you about it later. Love you."

Greg ended the call, and pocketed his phone before making his way to the interview room. He hoped that his partner would listen to the message before turning up to meet the caterers alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! All comments and kudos are appreciated, they let me know if you guys like my work and really boost my confidence!


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Greg got home later that evening, he was beyond shattered. His whole body was aching as if he had run the London marathon. The interview with the husband had done nothing but frustrate him, and the only thing he had gotten out of it was a pounding headache. It turned out that the husband had a pretty much water tight alibi, despite the fact that nearly all the evidence pointed to him being the culprit. A small groan escaped his lips as he reached up to put his coat on the hook, the muscles in his shoulder protesting at the movement. 

“Gregory?” Mycroft’s questioning voice drifted out to him from somewhere in the house. A large smile spread across Greg’s face at the sound of his partners’ voice. The only thing that had gotten him through the day was the thought of coming home to his fiancé. Greg quickly took off his shoes, before eagerly seeking the comfort only his partner could provide. 

Greg found Mycroft in the living room, reclining on the settee with a glass of scotch in his hand. “Hey” Greg said, as he made his way over to where Mycroft was sat. Mycroft hummed in response, but made no other move to greet his partner.

“Did you get my message?” Greg asked, as he sat down in the chair opposite Mycroft, unsure if his partner was angry with him or not. He knew that he had cancelled meeting him at pretty short notice, but that was the nature of his job and Mycroft knew that. 

“I did” Mycroft replied, his voice not inflicting any emotion. 

“Look I’m sorry I missed the meeting with the caterers” Greg started, but stopped when Mycroft held up a hand. 

“Its fine, these things happen” Mycroft said, curtly. Greg felt his stomach clench, he really didn’t want a fight right now, especially not after the day he’d had. 

“Right, well are you mad at me?” Greg asked, almost dreading the answer. 

“What, no” Mycroft exclaimed, looking at Greg with surprise. Greg let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding, his relief practically palpable. He really hadn’t wanted to argue with Mycroft tonight. Not that they argued much at all, in fact Greg couldn’t even remember the last time they had a falling out. But, they both had high pressure jobs and inevitably every so often emotions would spill over into their home life. 

“I was merely thinking about how much work we still have to do before the wedding” Mycroft explained, as he placed his now empty glass on the small table next to the settee.

“Well, is there much left to do? I thought the majority of things were all sorted?” 

Mycroft nodded, “yes I suppose they are. It’s just the finer details we need to sort out.”

“Well we have time” Greg affirmed. Mycroft smiled, and held out his hand to Greg. Greg didn’t need telling twice as he rushed towards Mycroft, suddenly desperate for the physical contact that was being offered. Mycroft grabbed his hand and pulled Greg down on top of him so that he was straddling his lap. Greg buried his head in his partners shoulder, breathing in the familiar and calming scent of Mycroft’s cologne. “I’ve had such an awful day” the inspector whispered into his fiancés neck, prompting Mycroft to thread his fingers into Greg’s silver locks.

“Do you want to talk about it” Mycroft asked, gently caressing Greg’s hair. 

“Maybe in a bit” Greg sighed, letting the ministrations of his partner ground him and he felt Mycroft nod in understanding. 

“I’m sorry if I made you think I was mad. I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts I didn’t even realise you were in distress. I’m sorry, darling”

“S’okay” Greg responded as he snuggled down into Mycroft. They stayed like that for a while, each content to draw comfort from the other. Eventually, Greg felt that he was able to tell Mycroft about his day. Mycroft listened quietly throughout, letting Greg get it out of his system. When he had finished, Mycroft had moved them both upstairs to their bedroom. No words were said as Mycroft loving got Greg ready for bed, where they both feel asleep in each others arms.

***

Greg glanced between the clock on his desk and the mountain of paperwork he still had left to do. It was 13:00 and if the sounds his stomach were making were anything to go by, he was due a lunch break. Normally he would have gone to fetch something from the canteen and eaten it in his office, but today he felt like taking a walk down into town. It had just turned spring after all, and he might as well make the most of the surprisingly clement weather they were having. Not only that, but it would also help him to clear his head on the au pair case. They still hadn’t got any further on said case, despite Sherlock’s best efforts. All the evidence pointed to the husband, it should have been an open and shut case. Except, the husband had an alibi - he was with a lover at the time and so couldn’t have committed the crime. 

“Heading out, Sir?” Sally asked, as she passed Greg in the corridor. 

“Gonna go get some lunch from town, anything you want brining back?”

“I’m good thanks, the cafeteria food is more than enough for me.”

“I think you the mean the chef is more than enough for you” Greg replied, with a wink. 

“Sir!” She hissed, looking round quickly to make sure no one had heard. 

Greg shrugged, “you do know that detectives work here right?” Greg joked, waving at her as she glared at him. 

Greg chuckled as he left the Yard, wondering if Anderson knew about Sgt Donovan’s latest conquest. A refreshing spring breeze was blowing, sending a slight shiver up Greg’s spine. He still wasn’t quite sure where he was heading, it had been so long since he had gone into town for some lunch that he was struggling to think of where to go. It was just as he was contemplating which way to turn when a sleek black car pulled up to a stop alongside him. Greg rolled his eyes, not doubting for a second who the car belonged to - sometimes he really wondered if his partner was psychic. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure” Greg asked as he got into the car, leaning over and giving Mycroft a quick kiss. 

“I thought you would like to go for lunch” Mycroft said, once they had broken apart. 

A smile lit up Greg’s face, “I’d love to.”

“I’m glad” Mycroft laughed, entwining their hands. 

“So, where are we going?” Greg asked, as he leaned in for another kiss. 

“Wait and see” Mycroft whispered, indulging Greg’s wish for more physical contact.

Where they were going turned out to be a quaint little coffee shop on the outskirts of the city centre. In all his time with Mycroft, Greg had been treated to some of the finest dining experiences he’d ever had. But without a doubt his favourite places to go were ones like this hidden gem of a coffee shop, which didn’t need to be ostentatious to serve good food and drink. They were seated at a little table for two, nestled away in the small corner of the café. They both ordered a latte and a plate of club sandwiches to share, and hopefully if Greg got his way they would be adding a dessert to that list too. 

“So, what were the caterers like yesterday?” Greg asked, as the server went to fetch them their drinks. 

“Fairly impressive, I’ve still not settled on the menu yet. I brought some of the dishes home with me yesterday, we can try them later on tonight if you wish. I think they should still be safe to eat”. 

“Sure, sounds good. I’m sorry I wasn’t in the mood to eat them last night.” Greg sighed regretfully, the thought of the previous night still fresh on his mind. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Gregory” Mycroft said softly, gently placing his hand on top of the inspectors. Greg swallowed, and tangled their fingers together. Public displays of affection were something that had taken a long time to happen, with Mycroft incredibly reluctant to engage in it at the start of their relationship. Now though, Mycroft was the complete opposite of what he had been at the beginning and more than often than not, it was him who initiated the contact. They broke apart when the waitress arrived with their drinks, and Mycroft used the opportunity to reach into his bag and pull out some magazines. 

“I also brought these with me” Mycroft said, placing a couple of the magazines from his bag on the table. Greg raised an eyebrow as he picked up the first one. 

“Okay, what do I need with this?” Greg asked, causally flicking through the magazine which showed an array of suits in a variety of colours, fabric and styles. 

“You need to pick out the fabric and colours for your suit.” Mycroft said, watching as Greg leafed through the pages. 

“I’m not really good at this sort of thing.” Greg admitted, feeling a bit out of his depth. He didn’t even know half of the names of the fancy fabrics that were on offer. 

“Nonsense, just pick whatever takes your fancy. You need to tell me by the end of the week so I can have the tailors make it.”

“Right” Greg said, quickly moving the magazines to one side as their lunch arrived. 

“Would you give a copy to my brother and John as well, they will also need to pick out a suit each”

“Of course, I’ll drop by on my way home from work” Greg said, tucking into a piece of the chicken sandwich and barely supressing a groan at how nice it was. As they ate, Mycroft continued to discuss various points about the wedding which left Greg feeling like he was more at a wedding planning meeting rather than a nice afternoon dinner with his partner.

“I didn’t think that there was that much left to do.” Greg questioned as he finished off the last bite of his rather excellent sandwich. 

Mycroft nodded, “there isn’t really. We have most of it sorted, now. I’ve already chosen the colour scheme so we can start to buy all the decorations for the ceremony and party. It’s really just the suit, the rings and the cake that we have left to do. Sherlock is taking care of the rings seen as he is the best man and you can chose your suit. I’ve also allowed Mrs Hudson to take care of the cake as per her request.”

“Right, that’s good then” Greg said, feeling a bit lightheaded as Mycroft reeled off all the preparations for their wedding. The honest truth was that Greg couldn’t even remember making half of these decisions, or even being informed of them. Still, it was good to know that everything was nearly ready, even if he hadn’t had much of say in it. They left the café a little later than planned as a result of Greg having persuaded Mycroft to share a red velvet cake. The ride back to the Yard was spent in a comfortable silence, each content to enjoy the quiet solace the car provided before having to return to their hectic jobs. When the car pulled up outside the Yard, Greg turned to give his partner a slow, sensual kiss.

“Thanks for lunch, I’ll see you later on tonight” 

“Until tonight, my dear” Mycroft replied, a little breathlessly as Greg got out the car and disappeared inside the Yard. 

***

It was much later that evening when Greg knocked on the door to John and Sherlock’s flat, magazines clutched in his hand. 

“Greg, nice to see you. Come in” John greeted warmly, moving away from the door way to allow Greg to get past.

“Sorry about the time, I’ve only just managed to get away from work” Greg apologized, making his way into the flat and nodding at Sherlock in lieu of a spoken greeting. 

“It’s no trouble, we aren’t busy. Can I get you anything?” John asked, already on his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“No thanks, I’m not staying long. Just came to drop these off.” Greg said, handing John the magazines and laughing at the doctors reaction when he realised what they were. 

“Is this a code for something kinky” the doctor asked, causing Greg to laugh.

“Of course not! Mycroft wants you to pick out the suit you want for the wedding”

“Okay, well I’m sure we can agree of something right Sherlock?”

The detective, who up until now had been surprisingly quiet, nodded in agreement. “Of course, John. We will endeavour to pick out the nicest suit possible, only to find we get given a completely different one on the day.”

“Sherlock” John warned. 

“What, I’m only being honest.” 

“What do you mean, Sherlock” Greg asked, confused by the detectives rather hostile attitude. 

“Come on inspector, don’t be slow. I mean exactly what I said. Mycroft is only asking us to pick out a suit to make us believe that we’ve had some actual involvement in the wedding”. 

Greg started to say something sharp in reply to Sherlock’s clever behaviour, but was cut off by a knock at the door and a friendly “Oo-oo”. 

“Inspector, what are you dong by so late? I hope you haven’t been called in to work at this time of night.”

“Not this time, Mrs Hudson. Just come round to drop of some stuff for the wedding.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. It’s getting pretty close to the big day now inspector, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, bit nervous of course but I’ve been looking forward to this day for so long now.”

Mrs Hudson nodded in understanding, placing a gentle hand on Greg’s arm. “Well, if you need anything you let me know. I’m already working on the cake so you can tell your fiancé it’s one more thing off the list”. 

“Thank you, I’m sure that will help ease his mind. I have to say, I’m looking forward to trying this cake of yours.”

“Well, it’s a family recipe but that’s all I’m saying, I don’t want to ruin the surprise. How are the rest of the preparations going?”

“There’s no point asking him, he doesn’t know” Sherlock interjected almost lazily. Greg swallowed, trying to keep calm. He wasn’t sure what he was more angry at. The fact that Sherlock was being insufferably rude or the fact that the detective was in fact right. 

“Sherlock” John admonished, sounding tired. 

“Things are going great, Mrs H. Just the finishing touches that need seeing to” Greg replied, deciding to ignore Sherlock’s remark. 

“Fantastic, well I’ll let you boys get on. Good evening Inspector” Mrs Hudson said, bidding them all a goodbye. 

“I think I’ll be getting off as well” Greg said, quickly sending Mycroft a message to come and pick him up. Normally, he would have driven himself home but today his car was in for the annual MOT. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out” John said, grabbing his coat off the rack whilst shooting Sherlock more than a bit not good look. 

“Thanks, I’ll see you later Sherlock. Remember to tell me if you find anything on the case.”

“Of course, Graham” the detective replied, still being snarky. 

“Greg” John corrected through gritted teeth.

“Who?” Sherlock asked. 

John shook his head and grabbed Greg’s arm, ushering him out of the flat. They both walked down the stairs and out onto the street below, standing in the shelter of the doorway while Greg waited for the car. It was late, with the only sign of life being a couple of taxi’s passing by every so often, meaning that there wasn’t anybody around to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“Still sulking over the best man speech?” Greg asked, as he took John’s exasperated appearance.

“Yes and no” John sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “It’s been a rough few days what with this au pair case driving him up the wall. He seems to be taking his frustrations out on the speech, this is the third time I’m making him re-write it. You turning up tonight with the stuff about the suits seems to have added fuel to the fire.”

“Sorry about that” Greg apologized but John waved it off.

“Don’t be, it’s him being the child. I keep wondering if he will ever learn and grow up. Anyway, what about you – are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine” Greg replied, but even to his ears he knew his answer sounded forced.

“You sure?”

“Well, no. It’s this wedding, Sherlock’s right you know. I really don’t know much about it, even though it’s supposed to be my day” Greg said with a sigh, his shoulders sagging under the invisible strain. 

“Yeah, but you’ve said yourself you’ve been busy with work, hence Mycroft organising the majority of the stuff.”

“I know, and that’s fine. But today at lunch it seemed like he was taking everything way too seriously."

“It is your wedding day…”

“Yeah, I get that. But, sometimes it’s like he’s so obsessed with everything being absolutely perfect that he’s forgetting about his own happiness. Take earlier for example, we went out for lunch and the whole time all Mycroft spoke about was the decisions he’d made about the wedding day and I couldn’t even remember half of them being made! As he was saying it, it was like he was just reeling things off of a list like they were chores. It’s almost like the heart is being taken out of the big day!” 

“Wow, I never had Mycroft down as a bridezilla!” John said in an attempt to liven the atmosphere but the joke fell flat because ultimately it was the truth. 

“I just wish he would take a break, focus on something other than the big day just for a minute”.

“Take a breath Greg. Mycroft cares about you so much, which is why he’s trying to make this the best day of your life. I know it’s stressful, but once you see him down the aisle, you’ll realise it has all being worth it.”

“You're right, thank you for reminding me of that” Greg said, letting the good doctor’s reassuring words sink in.

“No problem. Remember I’m here whenever you need me, I know what it’s like to deal with a Holmes after all.”

Greg laughed, as he started towards the car that had just pulled up outside the flat. “I’ll hold you to that” Greg shouted back, raising an arm in goodbye before getting in the car, feeling decidedly better about himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg looked over the paperwork, struggling to make neither heads nor tail of the information in front of him. For the past three days, he had been scouring London trying to find a murderer and was still coming up fruitless. A knocking at the door drew his attention. “Come in” he shouted, shutting the file in front of him. 

“Lestrade” Sherlock greeted, closing the door quickly behind him. 

“Sherlock, you by yourself today?” Greg questioned, puzzling over the absence of John. 

“John is at the flat. He rather forced me to come and see you” Sherlock admitted, looking somewhat embarrassed - if that was even possible for a Holmes. Greg furrowed his brow, if John was making Sherlock do something it didn't bode well. 

“Right, why is he making you come see me?” Greg asked, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew why Sherlock was here. 

“He may have found out that I know who murdered the au pair without telling you.”

Greg set his pen down, suspecting as much. “Right. So where is the murderer?” 

“In the morgue.” 

“What” Greg asked, not quite believing he’d heard right.

“The au pair committed suicide.” Sherlock replied, matter-of-factly. 

“Right, care to elaborate” Greg replied, trying to keep his calm but not entirely succeeding.

“It was fairly simple really once I realised it couldn’t have been the husband. The husband was, for want of a better word, a player. He had countless affairs disguised as business trips if his wide ever asked. While he was off gallivanting his wife stayed at home with their child. I’m willing to bet that the man was enchanted by the au pair, going so far as to seduce her. But she, being a proud and honourable women, felt profound guilt for indulging in the man. I suspect that she wanted to come clean and tell the wife. But, if she did he would be ruined so he started to blackmail her. Seeing no way out she decided to take her own life, but would hopefully take him down with her by making it look as though he had murdered her.” Sherlock said, in one long breath. 

Greg took a deep breath. On the one hand he was happy that the case had some closure. On the other hand, he had been rushed off his feet scouring the whole of London for a murderer who didn’t even exit. “How long have you known this for?” Greg asked, keen to know how long he had been wasting his time.

“Since the day I used the forensics lab.” Sherlock admitted. 

“So you’ve known for the best part of a week, that I have been working my arse off trying to find the murder and you’ve said nothing!” Greg bit out, completely abandoning his attempt to stay calm. 

“Well, what can I say, I’ve been busy.” 

“Busy! That busy you couldn’t even tell me that I was wasting my time!”

“Yes!”

“Really, and what was so pressing that you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me to call off the search?”

“Your wedding!” Sherlock shouted, leaving a ringing silence in the room.

“The wedding doesn’t take precedence over my work!”

“Try telling my brother that!”

“Don’t go brining Mycroft into this.” Greg warned, shooting Sherlock a look which vehemently said don’t even go there. 

“Why? It’s his fault after all” Sherlock continued, blindly ignoring Greg’s thinly veiled threats. 

“Really, and how do you work that out?”

“If he hadn’t been phoning me day in day out, badgering me about the rings, the speech and the bloody suit I wouldn’t have forgotten!”

“What are you on about?” Greg said, suddenly feeling like the wind being taken out of his sails. He hadn’t been aware that Mycroft had been getting at Sherlock about the wedding.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, he’s obsessed. Don’t get these rings they're too garish, don’t chose those rings they look childish” Sherlock said, in a high pitched, singsong voice. 

“I didn’t know about that Sherlock. I’ll tell him to leave you alone” Greg promised, feeling a mixture of annoyance and plain fatigue at the revelation.

“I’d appreciate it” Sherlock thanked, genuinely looking relieved. 

Greg nodded, a signal which Sherlock took as his cue to leave. Greg threw his pen down on the desk, not even caring when it bounced off and rolled onto the floor.

***

Greg tried, and failed, to avoid slamming the door of the home he shared with Mycroft. He was in a foul mood, not least because for the last three days he had been scouring London for a killer who turned out to be in the morgue all the long. That, coupled with the fact that the reason for him wasting his time searching for the murderer was his own wedding had done nothing to improve his mood. 

“Bad day, Gregory” Mycroft remarked, as Greg all but stormed into the living room, pouring himself a scotch and flinging himself down into the nearest chair.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had” he answered, taking a long sip of his drink, almost draining the glass. He flicked on the TV, trying to find something nice and easy to watch. Settling on some American comedy, Greg settled back to watch the show. Barely five minutes into the programme, a small cough from the settee opposite him drew his attention.

“Hmm” he hummed, as he looked at Mycroft who clearly wanted his attention for something.

“Have you picked the colours and material for you suit?” Mycroft asked, causing Greg to groan internally. He had, in fact, looked at the magazines this morning, but as for choosing one he didn’t even know where to start. When it came to tailoring, there appeared to be a whole new world of jargon he needed to learn in order to understand a thing. 

“I’ve had a glance over them this morning, I liked the green one” Greg replied, not really thinking about his answer instead choosing the first colour that came to mind.

“The green one” Mycroft repeated with a frown. 

“Yeah, it was dark green I think, with a light green shirt” Greg replied, trying to remember if the magazines had in fact had a green suit in them. 

“Gregory, do you really think green is going to go with the rest of the decorations?”

“Well, I wasn’t really thinking about that when I was looking” Greg replied, not really knowing what colour the decorations were. 

“You do realise everything has to be colour coordinated. A green suit would look outright garish at our wedding” Mycroft said, his voice leaden with disdain. Greg sighed inwardly, his mood getting considerably darker. Okay, he admitted that he hadn’t really looked at the suits, but if all Mycroft was going to do was criticise his choices because it didn’t match what he wanted, then why was he even bothering choosing.

“Look, My, I’ve had a terrible day and I’m tired. All I really want to do right now is sit here and watch crap telly so for just a second I can feel like a normal human being. Please can we do that?” Greg all but pleaded, attempting to avoid an argument that was becoming ever more inevitable. 

“I’m more than happy to let you watch the TV, but first I would like to sort out a few things for the wedding." 

“Christ My, can’t it wait! I’m really not in the mood for these conversations right now. Tomorrow I’ll talk to you about it, the whole day if you want, but just for tonight can we forget about it”. Greg said, a little forcefully. He knew he shouldn’t lose his temper but Mycroft was certainly making it difficult for him. 

“Forget about it. Just like that, forget about our wedding” Mycroft replied, sharply. 

“I didn’t mean it like that My.” Greg said, exasperated. To say Mycroft was a Holmes, he could easily take things the wrong way. 

“So what did you mean, it sounded perfectly clear that you aren’t interested in our wedding”.

“I never said that!” Greg exclaimed, his voice nearly a shout. 

“The day is supposed to be perfect, it will not be perfect if we don’t organise things!” Mycroft replied, matching Greg’s angry tone. 

“What do you mean ‘we’ Mycroft? You’ve organised everything. I don’t have a say in anything!”

“Well what do you expect with your colour choices?”

“Right, so I’m not sophisticated enough to pick things for our wedding!” 

“Not if it’s to be perfect no!”

“It won’t be perfect with you micromanaging everything!” ” Greg spat out, instantly regretting it the moment he did.

“Have you finished” Mycroft said, voice icy cold.

“Have you?” Greg bit back. 

Mycroft didn’t bother answering him, instead he turned his attention to the TV which was ironically showing and old episode of the Jeremy Kyle Show. Greg shifted uncomfortably, not quite knowing what to say to try and salvage the situation. 

“My?” Greg asked, tentatively. The elder Holmes didn’t even blink. 

“My, love?” Greg tried again, but once more met with a chilling silence. Greg sighed, he could take a hint.

"I’m sorry I shouted and I’m sorry about what I said. I’m gonna go take a walk, I’ll be back in a bit” Greg said, making his way over to the doorway clearly figuring they both needed a bit of space. He stopped to drop a quick kiss to his partner’s cheek, which was met with a freezing rigidity that nearly brought a tear to Greg’s eye. 

“I love you” Greg called from the doorway, he knew it wouldn’t fix anything but he felt compelled to say it. Heading out into the night, he hoped the clear dusk air would help clear his mind. 

***

Greg was sat in his usual spot in the pub, a half drunk glass of beer in front of him. What started out as a random walk had ended up taking him to his local pub – his subconscious mind must really need as drink he had thought when he had ordered the pint. The place was pretty much empty, save for a few of the local oldies and Greg was glad of the quiet. 

“Hey” a friendly voice said, as John placed his own drink down on the table. Greg had messaged him not long ago telling him to meet him in the pub. In truth, he felt a little guilty calling the doctor out so late at night, but something told him that John wouldn’t mind. 

“I messed up” Greg confessed, not even bothering to start with any small talk instead just getting straight to the problem in hand. 

“Don’t say that, I’m sure this isn’t your fault” John replied, straight away being the supportive friend Greg desperately needed. 

“No, it is. I really fucked it up this time."

“Okay firstly, stop beating yourself up because it’s not going to solve anything. Secondly, I’m sure whatever it is wasn’t entirely down to you. So tell me what’s happened – is it something to do with the wedding?”

Greg snorted, head hung in his hands. “I don’t even think there’s going to be a wedding anymore.”

“Come on, less of that. Tell me what happened.” John said, slighter more firm this time. 

Greg looked up at him, eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I shouted at him. I didn’t mean to and I know I shouldn’t have. I’d had a foul day not helped in the least by Sherlock, and I came home in a terrible mood. I suppose I was almost looking for a fight, I certainly got one.” Greg said bitterly, if his voice was wavering John made no mention of having noticed.

“Right, that’s a good start. What did you argue about?”

“The wedding. All I wanted to do was to curl up with my partner and watch some crap TV so that I could switch off and forget about the outside world for just five minutes. That’s all I wanted!” Greg cried, hands flailing as he tried to emphasise his point. It frustrated him how wanting something so mundane had led to a full blown argument. 

“Go on.” John encouraged, reaching out to touch Greg’s arm in an effort to calm him down. 

“He wouldn’t listen to me John. He kept going on and on about the wedding preparations. I told him what suit I was thinking about, he didn’t like it. He had a go at me for not knowing the suit wouldn’t match the colour scheme. I just lost my temper. I effectively told him that this perfect day he’s been organising will be one of the worst of my life” Greg finished, this time a couple of tears really did slide down his cheek and onto the table below. 

“Greg, I’m not going to lie it doesn’t sound great. But Mycroft loves you, and this is something you can work out”.

“I’m not so sure” Greg snorted, trying and failing to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

“Well I am” John declared, the confidence in his tone catching Greg’s attention. “You two have weathered several storms that would have battered any other relationship. You are one of the strongest couples I know and this is just a blip on the radar. What happened tonight can’t be changed, but what happens next can”.

“I do care about this wedding John, just because I don’t do a song and dance about it every two seconds doesn’t mean to say I’m not interested in it.” Greg whispered, his heart clenching at the admission.

“I know, but you know the Holmes boys can be a bit slow. Which is why you need to go home, right now, to your fiancé and tell him that.” John replied, smiling at Greg. Greg managed a small smile in return, as he started to think about what he was going to say when he got home. Deciding not to lose anymore time, he stood up and pulled on his coat.

“Thanks John, you’re a good friend.” Greg said, squeezing the doctor’s shoulder. 

“You’re welcome” John replied, clapping Greg round the back.

“You can have the rest of my drink if you like, consider it my way of saying sorry for calling you out so late.”

“No apologies are needed, Greg. Now go on home, you have a Holmes waiting for you”. 

***

When Greg finally got home, he was greeted by an ominous silence upon opening the door. It was pitch black in the hallway, and it appeared as though everything had been switched off. Greg fumbled for the light switch, an uneasy feeling beginning to spread through him. When he managed to get the light on, he could see that Mycroft’s coat and umbrella were still hung up on the stand with his briefcase below them. He was still in the house then, Greg thought as he hung his own coat up.

Moving somewhat cautiously, Greg made his way to the kitchen. He wasn’t expecting to find Mycroft in there, but he did want to pour himself a glass of water. As he moved further into the house, he realised that everything was indeed turned off like he suspected. When he got to the kitchen, he flicked on the light and what he saw made his heart stop. On the table were the shredded remains of the magazines. He swallowed dryly, as he moved to look at the tattered remains of the magazines. As he did, something on the floor caught his eye. Bending down, he froze as he saw on the floor near the table, a small object twinkling in the light.


	4. Chapter 4

Greg gently pushed open the door to his and Mycroft’s bedroom, hoping to find the politician in there. The room, like the rest of the house, was completely dark except for the little bit of moonlight that was creeping in through the curtains. Greg squinted in the poor light, just about able to make out the shape of Mycroft laying on top of their bed. He let out the breath he had been holding, the fact that Mycroft hadn’t locked himself away in his study coming as a huge relief. At least now he actually had a chance to be able to talk to him, something that would have been impossible if Mycroft had decided to hole himself up in his office. 

“Mycroft?” Greg asked, feeling almost like he was an intruder in his own bedroom. He started to creep into the room, scared of starling the politician with any sudden movement. 

“My?” Greg asked again once he reached the bed. He stood, for a second, looking down at the still form. Mycroft was laid on his side, his back to the door. Most people would have assumed the politician was asleep, but Greg knew him better than that. He was fairly certain that Mycroft had been awake ever since the moment he got back from the pub. 

The inspector shifted awkwardly, fairly certain that if he called out his name again he would continue to be met with a stoic silence. Deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable, Greg reached out and gently laid a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. The elder Holmes flinched as if he had been burnt at the gesture, causing Greg to withdraw his hand immediately, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. 

“My, come on talk to me.” Greg all but pleaded, not sure what else he could do. He had not expected such an adverse reaction from his partner to his touch, and he was left with an almost empty feeling in his heart. 

“Please leave, Detective Inspector” came the cold reply from the elder Holmes, his back still to Greg.

“No, no you don’t get to do this. Not now!” Greg almost cried in panic. He reached out once again to touch Mycroft, no longer caring if his touch was welcome or not, but the younger man was faster than him. In the blink of an eye, Mycroft had turned over to face Greg, catching the inspector’s wrist before he had the chance to make contact, clearly anticipating such a move. 

“What exactly am I not allowed to do?” Mycroft demanded. Greg might not have been able to see too well in the dim moonlight that bathed the room, but he could still see the angry glare his partner was sending him. Still, underneath it all Greg could just about make out the traces of hurt in those deep blue eyes - it was a look that pained Greg to his core knowing that it was him who had put it there. 

“Don’t shut me out, please!” Greg pleaded, desperately hoping his partner would listen to him. If Mycroft did decide to continue shutting him out he wasn’t sure how he would be able to get back in, a thought which absolutely terrified him. 

“Why? You’re getting what you wanted aren’t you?” Mycroft all but sneered. 

“What?” Greg asked, how on earth could Mycroft think that this was what he wanted? 

“You wanted a way to leave me, kindly take it and stop acting like a child” Mycroft replied, the hand he still had around Greg’s wrist tightening ever so slightly. 

“What! Why on earth would I want to leave you?” Greg questioned, genuinely confused. 

“Need I remind you of our earlier conversation?” Mycroft all but hissed. Greg didn’t, in fact, needed to be reminded of said argument. However, thinking back on it, Greg still couldn’t think of a reason why Mycroft would have jumped to such a drastic conclusion. It was true that what Greg had said had hardly been fair or nice, but at no point did the inspector think he had given any inclination of not wanting to be with the man in front of him. 

“My, how on earth could you think that? I don’t want to leave you, I’ll never want to do that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” Greg exclaimed, sincerity lacing his voice. 

“I find that hard to believe when you don’t even want to marry me” Mycroft responded, trying to sound flippant but falling short of the mark. Greg felt as though Mycroft had slapped him in the face. Of course, Mycroft simply had to have assumed the worst case scenario.

“Mycroft, all I want to do is marry you!” Greg cried, face a picture of anguish at his partner’s words. Mycroft peered at him in the dim light, but said nothing else. Greg thought, or at least hoped, he could see a little bit of doubt in Mycroft’s gaze in his assessment of the situation. 

“Mycroft, talk to me please. Why did you think I didn’t want to marry you?” Greg asked, calmly this time - it wouldn't do to lose his temper again. 

“Gregory, you all but said it my face.” Mycroft replied, all the anger suddenly seeming to dissipate from the elder Holmes, leaving him sounding incredibly tired. 

“No I didn’t” Greg replied, shaking his wrist free from Mycroft’s grasp. Slowly, allowing Mycroft to see what he was doing so that he could stop him if he wanted, he reached out and started to stroke Mycroft’s cheek. Mycroft let him, but he didn’t exactly lean into the touch. Greg felt the tension around his heart slightly ease a little. Sensing his chance to put the situation right, he leaned over and flicked on the bedside light, wanting to be able to see Mycroft’s face when he said his next words. 

The room was suddenly doused in a warm glow, a welcome change from the cold and foreboding moonlight. Greg was finally able to take a proper look his lover, which caused him to sigh at the sight of the elder Holmes. He looked, for want of a better word, a wreck. There were dark circles under his eyes from where he had been crying and his hair was dishevelled, probably from running his fingers through it in distress. Greg’s whole body ached at the sight, and he wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug and kiss his worries and hurt away. 

“Oh, My.” Greg whispered, as he continued to stroke his thumb up and down Mycroft’s cheek. Mycroft scowled at Greg's pity and he moved to pull away, but Greg captured Mycroft’s face with his other hand, effectively boxing him in. Mycroft now had no choice but to look Greg in the eye, something he seemed to be finding difficult to do. Greg took a breath determined to convey his true feelings across to his partner.

“I never meant I didn’t want to marry you. All I want to do is marry you Mycroft Holmes. I’m sorry I shouted earlier, I didn’t mean to. But I’d had such an awful day and all I wanted to do was curl on the settee with you and watch TV.”

Mycroft visibly swallowed as he let Greg’s words sink in. Hesitantly, he reached up to place his hand over the one cupping his face. 

“But, the day won’t be perfect for you if I’m there”. Mycroft replied quietly, a far cry from his normal assertiveness. Greg, mentally berated himself for what he had said, even in anger there was no excuse for his words. 

“My, the only way the day will be perfect for me is if you’re there. You’re the only thing that I want, that I need to be there. I would marry you tomorrow in the registry office and it would still be the most wonderful day of my life, do you know why? It’s because I’d finally be able to call you my husband. I’m sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean it. Please, believe me when I say you’re the only thing I need to make the day absolutely perfect”.

“I don’t deserve you, Gregory” Mycroft whispered, so softly that Greg barley heard.

“My, don’t be silly.” Greg chided, shaking his head. If anything, it was him who didn’t deserve Mycroft. 

“It’s true though” Mycroft said weakly, his eye’s glistening in the light.

“No it isn’t” Greg reaffirmed, much more firmly this time. Mycroft, however, didn’t look as though he had heard him. Instead he had a distant look in his eyes which Greg recognized as him withdrawing into his mind palace. 

“I wanted to give you the wedding you deserve, I just wanted to make you happy. In trying to do so, I failed miserably”. Mycroft sobbed, the high amount tension from the past few hours finally spilling over. Tears slipped freely from his eyes, the dam of his emotions bursting, and Greg moved to tenderly brush them away. The sight of Mycroft crying was a rare one, even for Greg. There had naturally been times over the course of their relationship where one or the both of them had sought the comfort of the other, but the fact that it was Greg who had done this to his partner made him feel so ashamed. 

“No, love, you didn’t. I’m in awe of how much you have organised and incredibly thankful for everything you’ve done. I’m so lucky to have such an amazing partner” Greg rushed out, hoping to bring Mycroft out of the self-depreciating state he seemed to have gotten himself into. 

“Even after all I’ve put you through?” Mycroft asked, sadness tinging his voice. 

“On the contrary, I think it’s me who should be apologizing for the things I’ve put you through” Greg replied, regretfully.

“No, it was me who...” Mycroft started, but was cut off by Greg who had quickly placed a firm, closed mouth kiss on the politician. He drew back after a moment, waiting for Mycroft to reopen his eyes and look at him again. 

“Listen, everyone has their ups and downs, love. We could spend the rest of the night arguing over who should take the blame. But that won’t help anything now, will it? The most important thing, and the only thing I care about, is that we always find a way back to each other”. Greg whispered to Mycroft, his eyes full of affection.

“I love you so much Gregory, I’m so scared I’ll lose you.” Mycroft responded, his eyes also mirroring the affection Greg had for him.

“My, you’ll never lose me. You’ll have me for as long as you want me.”

“I’ll never stop wanting you” Mycroft admitted, his eyes shining once again in the soft light of the room. 

Greg swallowed at the weight of his lover’s confession. Tentatively, he moved to reach into his back pocket. “Will you put this back on?” he asked, as he pulled out the ring which he had retrieved earlier from the kitchen floor. 

Mycroft flushed red and looked away, embarrassment at the reminder of his earlier actions. “Hey” Greg whispered, tilting Mycroft’s chin so that he could look him in the eye again. Gently, Greg leaned in and gave Mycroft a slow kiss, trying to pour as much of his love into it as possible. “Will you?” Greg whispered against his lips, feeling Mycroft nod his head and hold out his hand, giving Greg permission to put the ring back on. Greg smiled, and lovingly slipped the ring back onto his fiancé’s finger, giving it a little kiss as he did so. 

“Promise me you’ll never jump to conclusions like that again.” Greg said, his face full of seriousness as he squeezed Mycroft’s hand.

“I promise” Mycroft replied, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled Greg into a tight hug, which the inspector more than happily returned. Relief and euphoria coursed through the inspector, as he buried his head into the crook of Mycroft’s neck. This, this was what Greg had been frightened of losing the most. The comfort, happiness and absolute love that the two of them shared was something that he honestly didn’t think he would be able to live without. A few tears slipped from his eyes and onto his fiancé’s shoulder, causing the elder Holmes to grip him impossibly tighter.

Reluctantly, Greg pulled back much to the discontentment of his fiancé. He chuckled at that, quickly dropping a kiss onto Mycroft’s forehead before manoeuvring them both so that he was propped up against the headboard with Mycroft resting against his chest. Mycroft raised a quizzical eyebrow at the new position, turning his head to try and see what the inspector was doing. Greg, whose left arm was wrapped firmly around the politicians waist, reached out over to his bedside table to retrieve the items he had placed there when he had come into the room. 

“We still need to pick out our suits” Greg whispered into Mycroft’s ear, placing the now sellotaped magazines in front of them both. Mycroft twisted around to look Greg in the eye, and Greg smiled fondly back at him, giving him a reassuring squeeze with his arms. 

“So, which one were you thinking for me?” Greg asked, propping his chin on Mycroft’s shoulder so that he could look at the magazines. 

“Well, I thought navy blue would look good on you” Mycroft answered, almost timidly with a blush colouring his cheeks. Greg tightened his hold on his fiancé, timid did not suit the elder Holmes. 

“Hmm, I think you’re right” Greg replied, as he flicked through the some of the pages trying to find an example of a dark blue suit. 

They spent the next hour going over the different types of suits before each deciding on one that they both liked. Greg then had Mycroft tell him about the plans for the wedding again. This time, he listened attentively, offering his opinions and approval as Mycroft ran his ideas past him. They spent the best part of the night like that, completely absorbed in one another going over their wedding plans. Eventually though, they inevitably succumbed to sleep, but even in doing so they stayed wrapped up in each other, both reluctant to let the other one go again.


	5. Chapter 5

“So, how are you feeling?” John asked, whilst picking at his half eaten packet of crisps. 

“The next time you ask me that, I swear I’m throwing this drink over you!” Greg exclaimed, only half joking in his threat. Greg had long since lost count of the number of times John had asked that question over the course of the day, and now he felt that if he heard it one more time he would go mad. 

“Sorry, it’s just I really can’t believe your actually getting married to Mycroft Holmes tomorrow” John said, shaking his in disbelief. The two of them were sat in their local pub, each nursing a drink and contemplating the day in store for them tomorrow. 

“I admit it's been a long time coming” Greg conceded, thinking right back to over year ago when he first voiced his desire to marry the elder Holmes brother to the army doctor. He hadn’t expected to be left waiting quite so long, but right now he really couldn’t care less. Taking another sip of his beer, Greg smiled to himself at the thought that tomorrow he would finally be wed to the elder Holmes brother. 

“You look happy” John commented, a smile on his face.

“I am” Greg sighed with content. 

“I’m glad. It makes a change from a few weeks ago” John remarked, causing Greg to grimace. The thought of the argument was still fresh on his mind even though both he and Mycroft had agreed to put it behind them. Since then, Greg had actively helped Mycroft to finalise the wedding plans, but a pang of guilt still hit Greg in his heart when he thought back to that night all those weeks ago. 

“Well, you know what My is like” Greg replied. John snorted a laugh and it took Greg a moment to work out why.

“My? Seriously I can’t imagine Mycroft Holmes allowing anybody to give him a nickname” John chuckled, making Greg roll his eyes. 

“What’s wrong with it? Besides it’s easier to say in bed” Greg shot back, causing John to choke on his drink.

“Thank you for the image!”

“Your welcome” Greg said with a devilish smile. 

“How do you think the two of them are getting on at the estate?” John asked, changing the conversation so as to avoid having to think of Mycroft’s sex life. 

“I imagine they are probably staring daggers at each other over their dinner” Greg replied, after a moment’s thought. 

Mycroft had wanted to be traditional and spend the night apart from Greg which the inspector had agreed too somewhat reluctantly. However, because the wedding was up at the Holmes estate it meant that most of the decorations could only be done the day before the ceremony. Therefore, they had both decided that Mycroft would go up the day before to make sure everything was in place and to his satisfaction. As it was such a big job, Mycroft had begrudgingly enlisted the help of Sherlock at Greg’s behest. Greg had argued that he was Mycroft’s best man after all and therefore the job should fall to him to help. This had left Greg down in London with John as his supportive best man. 

“Same again?” John said, gesturing to the empty glass. Greg thought about it, but decided against having another drink – he didn’t want to chance anything by getting slightly too drunk. Especially considering they would both have to be up early in the morning. This was because Greg would be driving himself and John up to the estate where they would quickly change into their suits before making their way to the lake where upon Greg would walk down the aisle. It really was like a military operation Greg thought to himself dryly.

John frowned at Greg’s refusal of another drink, but shrugged. “Fair enough, I suppose we shouldn’t have too many. Just let me finish mine and we’ll get off” John added, making quick work of the remaining dregs of his beer. 

“Ready?” Greg asked, already pulling on his coat.

“Yeah, let’s get you home” John replied, leading the way out of the pub and into the cold winter’s night.

***

"Bloody thing!" Greg shouted in anger. For once, he really wished he had one of his fiancé’s cars at his disposal as he tried turning the key in the ignition again. Despite Mycroft constantly offering him lifts about the city, the inspector would always refuse, much preferring to drive his own car. He wasn’t sure why he was so averse to being chauffeured around, but he supposed it was because he had always being taught to do things himself. He also enjoyed driving, despite London being a complete nightmare to get about in. 

Still, right now he really hated his car. He glared accusingly at the dashboard as if that somehow might make it be shamed into starting. They had been at it nearly an hour now, trying to get his car to work again. After getting back from the pub, Greg had insisted on making sure everything was ready for in the morning so they could get off straight away. After loading the car with their suits, Greg went to check that it would actually start – something which it was frequently prone not to do. Much to his horror, the car had indeed refused to cooperate.

“You really need to get this car into the garage” Greg heard John shout from the under the bonnet where the doctor was tampering with engine.

“It is booked in, they just couldn’t do it before the wedding.” Greg replied, letting his head bang back gently against the headrest. 

“What, even with Mycroft’s influence?” 

“John, just because I’m effectively marrying the British government does not mean to say that I can't take care of on my own things” Greg replied, shaking his head even though John couldn’t see him. It was one of the things that Greg hated, people assuming he used his relationship with Mycroft to his advantage. It was something that Greg would never do, although he did regret not insisting on the garage giving his car a quick once over before the wedding.

A thud brought Greg out of his thoughts and he looked at John through the windscreen. Greg felt a pang of sympathy at the normally pristine doctor covered in oil and grease from his attempts to coax the car into life. He could, of course, call Mycroft and tell him about his predicament but that would mean breaking tradition and Greg wouldn’t put it past his partner to postpone the wedding because of it. There was always Anthea, and although Greg trusted her integrity, there was still the possibility that Mycroft would find out about his predicament and start to worry unnecessarily. No, he could deal with the situation by himself, no point in causing unnecessary concern. 

“Right, give that a try. If it doesn’t start I don’t know what we will do” John said, leaning against the car's roof. 

“Here’s hoping” Greg muttered, turning the key whilst saying a silent prayer. Once again the car started to cough, but this time instead of cutting out it managed to stutter back into life. Greg smiled up at John who looked similarly pleased. 

“What did you do?” Greg asked, whilst marvelling at how his car now seemed to be running like a treat. 

“Just fiddled around with the engine, hopefully it should be okay for tomorrow” John replied, smiling at the sound of the working engine filling the room. Greg reluctantly cut the ignition, before heaving himself out of the car, the last minute stress taking its toll. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. Don’t want you falling asleep on Mycroft when you exchange your vows” John remarked, helping the visibly weary Greg up the stairs and into his bed. 

***

Across town, around the same time that Greg was collapsing into his bed, Mycroft was sat alone in the living room of his family home. He was nursing a warm cup of tea, whilst silently looking out into the inky blackness of night. It had been a long time since he had found himself unable to sleep. Ever since getting with Greg, Mycroft’s insomnia had gradually gotten better to the point that he rarely suffered from it anymore. Tonight though, sleep was being elusive. 

“Thinking of doing a runner, brother mine?” a deep voice floated across the room, cutting through the peaceful quiet.

“Hardly” Mycroft replied, somewhat curt. Sherlock chuckled in response, unperturbed by his brother’s sharp remark. 

“You alright?” Sherlock asked, taking the seat opposite Mycroft, his own tea in his hand.

“Fine thank you” Mycroft replied, taking a sip of his tea. He risked a glance over at Sherlock who was busy looking out of the window, apparently not paying his brother any attention. Mycroft turned his own attention back to the window, enjoying the silence once again. 

“I wonder how your goldfish is doing” Sherlock remarked, almost absentmindedly.

“Don’t call him that” Mycroft replied, his heart lurching at the thought of Greg. To say they had only been apart a day, something which wasn’t unusual, Mycroft was missing his fiancé desperately.

“I’m sure he feels the same way” Sherlock commented, meeting Mycroft’s gaze in the reflection of the window. Mycroft managed a small smile in return, secretly appreciating his brother’s attempt at niceness. Throughout the day, the pair of them had somehow managed to work together with minimal arguing to prepare everything. Even over dinner, the usual frosty looks the two of them often exchanged were for once absent. 

“Well, as much as I would love to spend the night staring solemnly out of the window with you, I feel the need to retire to bed. Enjoy your last evening of freedom” Sherlock said, raising gracefully from his seat. 

“Goodnight, brother mine” Mycroft replied, his eyes meeting Sherlock’s. To an outsider, it looked as though the brothers were engaged in some form of staring competition, the silent conversation transpiring between the two of them completely overlooked. 

Sherlock eyes conveyed what his mouth could not, _I’m happy for you_. 

Mycroft in return acknowledged the sentiment, _Thank you_. 

With a nod of his head, Sherlock left the room leaving Mycroft alone again. The sudden silence now seemed oppressive rather than comforting to the elder Holmes. With a sigh, he finished his tea before retiring to his own room. 

***

Greg cursed, as the car once again started to struggle. John glanced over at Greg, the inspector angrily wrestling with the gearstick, trying to get the car into a gear. They had been driving for about an hour and a half now and for the most part it had been running a treat. That was until it has started on the country roads and for the last ten minutes or so the engine had started making some rather suspect noises. 

“Everything ok?” John asked, fearing he already knew the answer. 

“There’s a reason it was booked in for the garage John” Greg said, through gritted teeth. By now, the car had lost all momentum and had started to roll back slightly on the steep country hill. 

“Fuck!” Greg cursed, as he pulled on the handbrake and slammed the wheel in frustration. Putting the car back into neutral, he tried the ignition. The car coughed and spluttered, and for one glaring minute Greg thought it was going to come back to life. Instead, it gave a lurch before cutting out completely. This time when Greg turned the ignition, all he was rewarded with was an ominous silence. 

“Right, let me see if I can fix it again, it’s probably the same problem” John said, trying to sound positive for Greg’s sake. 

Greg rubbed his face with his hands. This was the last thing he needed. Little more than an hour to go to the wedding and they were stuck in the middle of the country with no help readily available. The only thing he could hope for was John being able to fix the engine again. This hope, however, was short lived when John opened the bonnet and a large plume of smoke came gushing out. Greg’s suspicions that the car was well and truly knackered were confirmed when John held out a broken fan belt, something which might have been fixable in London but certainly wasn't in the middle of the countryside. 

“Shall we call for help?” John asked, as he wiped his hands on his t-shirt. 

Greg nodded, pulling out his phone whilst swallowing around the lump in his throat. He had been desperate to do something without his partner’s help for once, to prove that even though he was marrying a Holmes he was still capable of accomplishing things. As he looked down at his phone, his heart sank even further. “I would call for help, but I have no signal” Greg sighed, holding out his phone to John. The doctor tried his own mobile, but his too was unable to connect to a network. 

“How far are we from the house?” John asked, looking off into the distance trying to make out a house on the horizon. 

“Not far, maybe 45 minutes at most” Greg sighed, whilst kicking a stone. The inspector was leaning against the side of the car, a look of defeat already across his face. 

“Right” John replied before disappearing around the other side of the car. Greg wondered what he was doing as he heard the door open and shut. What he didn't expect was a bundle of fabric to be thrust into his arms. Greg looked down at the bundle, quickly recognizing it as his tailor made wedding suit. 

“Put it on.” John commanded, already starting to work his way into his own suit. 

“Why?” Greg asked, confused. However, he had already started to work off his own t-shirt in favour of the light blue silk shirt. 

“This car is going nowhere, and we can’t call for help. Besides, after all this we don’t really want to have to phone Mycroft to come save us” John said, struggling to get into his trousers. 

“Right,” Greg replied, glancing at his watch. There was just over an hour to go before the wedding, an hour before he was supposed to be a married man. 

“Come on hurry up, time is wasting” John chastised. The doctor was now fully dressed in his best man suit and was just putting on a quick squirt of deodorant. Greg watched him, half in a dream as he pulled on the last of his wedding outfit. John threw him the deodorant so that he too could freshen up. 

“Ready?” John asked, a determined look across his face. 

Greg raised an eyebrow confused. “Yeah, but what for? Why have I put my wedding suit on when we are nowhere near the house? We don't even know how we are getting to the house!”

“It's obvious isn't it? There's only one option we have left" John said, frowning at the apparent simplicity of it all. Greg rolled his eyes, Sherlock was definitely starting to rub off on the doctor. 

"Enlighten me" Greg said, exasperated but eager to here John's solution to the situation. 

The doctor looked at him with a broad smile, "we are going to run!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left to go, the wedding is nearly here! Thanks to everyone who has commented and left a kudos so far, I really love hearing your feedback!


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